


The Vanguard

by MirrorMystic



Series: Where The Lines Overlap [5]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, F/F, F/M, Game Spoilers, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Tailwind Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:39:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorMystic/pseuds/MirrorMystic
Summary: Tracing patterns / across a personal map...Three love stories in as many years. On the lonely road to Ann Takamaki's heart, it was always those three leading the charge.





	The Vanguard

**Author's Note:**

> _Tracing patterns_   
>  _Across a personal map_   
>  _And making pictures_   
>  _Where the lines overlap..._
> 
> Welcome, everyone, to 'The Vanguard', an interquel, of sorts, bridging the gap between 'Tailwind' and 'Where the Lines Overlap'. Beware of 'Tailwind' spoilers! I've bumped up the rating, due to language, some violence in Mementos, and a single scene that gets a little steamy, but nothing too explicit, I assure you. 
> 
> This also turned out a *lot* longer than I thought it would- originally, this was just supposed to be a scene in Mementos! But strap yourselves in, guys, because you're in for a ride. I hope you all enjoy the read!

~*~  
  
You never forget your first time.  
  
When did you first fall in love with Ann Takamaki?  
  
Shiho’s go-to answer is “it’s too hard to pick just one moment”, which is both trite, and the truth. There were too many to count. Ann cheering for her and calling her name, whether in the stands at a volleyball game or at the end of the physical therapy track, Shiho sweating and panting with every step. Little fingers linked in a promise. Sleepovers. Breakfast crepe dates.  
  
(“It’s not a _date_ ,” Ryuji would say.  
  
“It’s not a proper breakfast!” Shiho would say.  
  
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ann would retort, as she had breakfast at the crepe stand with her best friend and her g- ... _better_ friend.)  
  
If Shiho has to pick one, she’ll say it was on Ann’s first day in middle school in Japan, when her first thought upon seeing the new girl wasn’t “are you lost?” but “you have pretty eyes”.  
  
Granted, her second thought was, in fact, “are you lost?” And then Ann had swallowed hard, and nodded, and Shiho had walked her to the classroom they shared.  
  
The rest, as they say, is history.  
  
Now, when did _you_ first fall in love with Ann Takamaki?  
  
Ryuji already has an answer ready. It’s “when I bleached my hair for her”, which is trite, and not quite the truth. True, the day Ryuji marched into school, now the _second_ blonde on campus, and yelled at a bunch of older boys if they wanted to pull _his_ hair, too… it left an impression, alright. That was his and Ann’s first kiss- if you could call it that, what with them both being twelve and still stuck in the ‘cooties’ stage.  
  
Truthfully, he fell in love with her some time after that. It was a day after Ryuji had been discharged from the hospital, after Suguru Kamoshida had poisoned the air between them, and the Shujin rumor mill had driven them apart. Ryuji came home with a broken leg and an impotent fury he didn’t have the words to express.  
  
Ann came to see him, and not one member of the track team could say the same. She came with a ‘Get Well Soon’ bouquet, a plastic bag full of takeout, and a promise: that Kamoshida would pay for what he had done.  
  
They made good on that promise, a year later, when Akira arrived in Tokyo.  
  
And just like that, the distance between them vanished. They were inseparable, again. Thick as thieves.  
  
The rest, as they say, is history.  
  
When did you first fall in love with Ann Takamaki?  
  
Ask Akira, and he’ll deflect. He’ll say “at first sight”, and everyone will tease him for it. It’s a romantic enough moment to choose, the two of them standing in the rain. It’s unfortunate, then, that only moments later Ann would be climbing into a car with Kamoshida.  
  
He doesn’t mention that. That’s just how Akira is- speaking in white lies and half-truths, answering questions with questions, meeting accusations with a shrug and a smile. Ask him if he ever fell for Ann, and he’ll tilt his head back and laugh it off, the truth in his eyes hidden by his glasses catching the light.  
  
Until, just like in aikido, he turns her momentum around.  
  
“When did _you_ first fall for Ann?” Akira asks her, two years before her chart would make the truth plain.  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Makoto says, though her cheeks are warm.  
  
Ask Makoto, and she’ll deny it. But she knows damn well when.  
  
You never forget your first time…  
  
~*~  
  
It had been at the crepe stand, actually. (What was it with Ann and crepes?)  
  
_It wasn’t a_ **_date_ ** , Makoto would tell herself, for days afterward, channeling her inner Ryuji. And, really, it wasn’t- it was just two friends getting to know each other, indulging a sweet tooth.  
  
That hadn’t stopped Ann from flicking a stray dollop of whipped cream off of Makoto’s cheek and popping it into her mouth. That hadn’t stopped Ann from teasing her when Makoto went stiff, cheeks hot, and all she could do was stare.  
  
That hadn’t stopped Makoto from thinking about Ann’s touch for weeks to come.  
  
What _had_ stopped her, though, was work. There was work to be done, and Makoto had buried those thoughts, filed them away under the pretense of them being ‘unprofessional’, of her having to set an example, of being above it all. There were duties to attend to in the Student Council, despite summer break swiftly approaching. There were budgets to balance, because apparently Akira had lost 100,000 yen to some con artist in Shinjuku, a fortuneteller who’d sold him a ‘miraculous’ hunk of rock salt. And, of course, there were midterms to study for.  
  
Then, one stormy night in August, Shiho had been kidnapped, and all that other work had to wait.  
  
She’d shot down the shadowed corridors of Mementos on Johanna, a comet trailing a wake of blue flame. Shiho was captive in the depths; Ann had run after her; and now Ryuji was doing the same for Ann. And now, Akira had entrusted Makoto with the task of dragging Ann and Ryuji out of there before they got themselves killed.  
  
“Bring them home, Makoto!” Akira had cried. “Both of them!”  
  
Akira’s wording stung, in a way Makoto wouldn’t understand until after she’d gotten them out- when they’d returned to Leblanc, and Makoto realized that, in her haste to dive into the depths, she hadn’t been thinking of Ryuji at all.  
  
It had always been about Ann.  
  
~*~  
  
_“You. Left. Shiho. Behind.” Ann had seethed, stabbing an accusing finger into Makoto’s chest._ _  
_ _  
_ _And beneath Makoto’s cold, brittle anger, and the warning she growled out a moment later, there was something else- a flutter in her heart, and the absurd, fragile hope that Ann would always look at her with that much fire in her eyes._ _  
_  
~*~  
  
That night, all those feelings had come rushing back- and then the very next day, Makoto had to bury them again. Shiho was safe, her captor dealt with, the Sunken Cathedral collapsing into the ooze. Shiho and Ann finally admitted how they’d both been madly in love with each other for all these years. It was touching, and it was undoubtedly a victory, but it still made Makoto’s stomach churn in a decidedly unprofessional way.  
  
Makoto, ever practical, decided that all she could do was channel that energy into something more productive.  
  
That was how she found herself back in Mementos, hunting Shadows in the lightless depths.  
  
Makoto leaps from Johanna, her Persona vanishing in a curl of blue fire. She sails through the air, thrown by momentum, and shatters a Shadow’s neck with a flying kick. Its partner shrieks and swipes at her with a ragged claw, but she curls into the blow, slamming her elbow backwards into its gut before grabbing its extended arm and yanking it forward in an over-the-shoulder throw. The Shadow’s back hits the pavement with a fleshy slap, and Makoto crouches above its helpless form, raining a flurry of punches up its chest. She rears back and drives home one last punch, the Shadow exploding into ink and gore.  
  
Makoto kneels there, catching her breath, an ache growing in her arm. She’d gotten a little carried away with that last blow, punching straight through the Shadow’s skull and jarring her knuckles against the floor. She exhales, getting to her feet, the metal of her cesti scraping against the pavement. She stands there, gazing down the tunnel, fists dripping with inky blackness, her scarf waving in the breeze.  
  
“You look so heckin’ cool, dude,” Ryuji says, coming up from behind her.  
  
“That was amazing, Makoto!” Shiho says brightly, Ann at her side. “You look like a real hero!”  
  
Shiho’s voice sends a flicker of… something through Makoto’s chest. Makoto exhales. When she turns around, she gives them a perfect, practiced smile.  
  
“Thank you,” she says, quietly.  
  
“Makoto’s hardcore, Shiho,” Ann grins, snaking an arm around Shiho’s waist and giving her a squeeze. “She does this kind of stuff all the time.”  
  
“She’s so cool,” Ryuji shoots Ann a teasing look. “She gets a scarf, a motorcycle… meanwhile, all _you_ get is a tail and a stupid boob window.”  
  
“Hey!” Ann protests. “Y’know, I don’t need to take this from some dork who wears an _ascot_ .”  
  
“Be nice,” Shiho chides. She looks up and catches Makoto’s eyes.  
  
Damn it. Makoto doesn’t mean to stare. But there’s something about Shiho’s eyes, some depth of feeling or insight… it feels like Shiho can see right through her.  
  
Shiho calls forth Callisto in a spiral of blue flame, and Makoto looks away, as if flinching from the sudden brightness in the lightless depths. The great bear hoists Ann and Shiho onto her back, banners of the hunt flying in the breeze. Shiho raises an ornate bow in her hands, while Ann curls an arm around her waist and takes the reins.  
  
Ann tucks her chin over Shiho’s shoulder and winks down at Makoto and Ryuji.  
  
“Hey, 1000 yen says Shiho and I get the next kill,” Ann calls out.  
  
“You’re on,” Ryuji grins.  
  
“Don’t get too far ahead, you two,” Makoto warns.  
  
“Try to keep up,” Ann smiles, as Callisto bears her riders off into the dark.  
  
~*~  
  
A shining emerald arrow paints a trail of green light down a darkened corridor. It gleams, and explodes into a wild tornado that hurls a pack of flying Shadows to the ground. They lie there, twitching, their wings tattered and ruined, as Ryuji and Ann flank them, covering them with their guns.  
  
“They’re wide open!” Ryuji cries. “Let’s get ‘em!”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Makoto blinks. She misses her cue, but they don’t wait for her signal- Ryuji and Ann leap into the fray, fighting in tandem like they were born to do it.  
  
Ann strikes a pose. She smiles and winks, and the pack of Shadows dissolve into tar behind her.  
  
Makoto is distracted. And Ann, damn her, knows it. She saunters past with a confident sway in her hips, flipping a twintail over her shoulder, flashing Makoto a coquettish smile. She reaches up and takes Shiho’s hand, climbing back into Callisto’s saddle.  
  
Makoto, in a moment of weakness, cannot bear to look away.  
  
Damn it. Damn her! Who did Ann think she was? The outfit born of Shiho’s cognition was a tasteful white robe and strapped sandals, to match her Persona, from Greek myth. But no, Ann had to strut around dressed like some catgirl- Catwoman-  
  
_Cat burglar_ , Makoto says to herself. _You’re thinking of ‘cat burglar’_ .  
  
Images of Ann spring to mind, unbidden. Makoto has to swat them aside, half-formed, before her imagination gets carried away.  
  
“Hey, Makoto?” Ryuji asks, snapping her out of her daze. “What are we supposed to be looking for, again?”  
  
Makoto exhales. It speaks to the depths of her distraction that _Ryuji_ , of all people, has to get her back on track.  
  
“Aluminum sheets,” Makoto replies, “and liquid mercury. Akira needs it for some project of his, though I can’t rightly imagine what he’s planning to make.”  
  
“Long as I get paid, I’m happy,” Ryuji shrugs. He’s digging through the Shadows’ ink-stained remains, shoveling crumpled bills and dirty yen coins into a duffel bag that had ‘FUNDRAISING’ written on it in big, blocky marker.  
  
‘Fundraising’. That’s what Akira and Ryuji call these little day-trips into Mementos, when they don’t have any requests from the Phan-Site to fulfill.  
  
The term Futaba would use, on the other hand, is ‘grinding’.  
  
Right now, with both she and Ann in their skintight Thief outfits, her thoughts straying into increasingly unprofessional territory, ‘grinding’ is the _last_ thing Makoto wants on her mind.  
  
~*~  
  
“I kinda feel bad,” Ryuji says to her, as they continue their hunt through the lightless depths. Makoto had let Ann and Shiho ride ahead, in the hopes that distance, and small talk, would be enough to combat the thirst.  
  
“Why do you say that?” Makoto asks.  
  
“I mean, it’s a Sunday,” Ryuji shrugs. “Ann only gets to see Shiho once a week, if that. Shiho’s gotta take a train to Tokyo from the country, and she’s gotta be back for school in the morning. I dunno. She’s only got so much time in town. She shouldn’t have to be stuck down here.”  
  
“At least it looks like they’re having fun,” Makoto mutters.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Makoto clears her throat. “She, um… she seems… nice.”  
  
“Who, Shiho?” Ryuji grins. “Man, she’s great. She’s such a tease, if you can believe that. She doesn’t show it to everybody. But put her in the right crowd, she can really push some buttons.”  
  
Makoto frowns at his choice of words. “...I see.”  
  
“Did you know she practically founded the Phantom Thieves?” Ryuji asks.  
  
Makoto looks up, intrigued. “How do you mean?”  
  
Ryuji nods, unusually somber. “When Akira and I first stumbled into the Metaverse, and we found out about the whole ‘change of heart’ thing? Morgana warned us that if we stole Kamoshida’s heart and something went wrong, we could wind up killing him. And I thought, like, shit! I wanted that prick to rot his ass in prison, but I didn’t want to _kill_ the guy. So me and Akira, we thought we should wait it out. Find another way.”  
  
“Then Shiho jumped,” Makoto murmurs.  
  
“Then Shiho jumped,” Ryuji echoes. “And that was the last straw. Even if it was risky, we had to do it. We had to do _something_ . Ann found out what we were planning. She said she was coming with us, and she wouldn’t back down. And, well… you know the rest.”  
  
Makoto nods, sagely.  
  
“Shiho set this whole thing going,” Ryuji continues. “And look at everything that came out of it. Without her, the Phantom Thieves wouldn’t be in business. Akira and I would’ve been expelled. Kamoshitty would still be king of the castle. We probably would never have been friends with you, or Yusuke. Hell, Futaba would still be cooped up in her room.”  
  
Ryuji exhales, a wistful look in his eyes.  
  
“...y’know, back in middle school, me, Ann, and Shiho used to be real tight. Kamoshida fucked us up, man. Drove us apart, over bullshit rumors and the shit he was doing behind closed doors. Now, though? We’re closer than ever.” Ryuji shrugs. “And looking at it like that… I dunno. I’m kind of glad that Shiho jumped.”  
  
It’s moments like these that Makoto remembers that Ryuji is, or was, an athlete. He’s fit. He’s flexible. Flexible enough to put his foot all the way into his mouth, and, occasionally, pull it back out again.  
  
“ _Fuck_ , that came out wrong,” Ryuji sputters. “But, like, you know what I mean, right?”  
  
“I get it,” Makoto says. “It’s nice to think that all that suffering meant something in the end.”  
  
“Nah, dude,” Ryuji shakes his head. “When people go through shit, it’s not, like, the universe or whatever trying to teach ‘em a lesson. People go through shit because of other, shittier people. I’m not happy about what happened to Ann and Shiho- just thinking about him, what he _did_ to them, that shit makes my blood boil. But I _am_ happy about where they wound up.”  
  
“Together, you mean?” Makoto asks.  
  
And there’s a twitch- a flicker of something across Ryuji’s eyes, in his face. A hesitation. A tic.  
  
“Yeah,” Ryuji says softly.  
  
Makoto frowns, but doesn’t say anything. That seems to suit Ryuji just fine- they continue down the corridor at a languid pace, Ryuji chattering enough for the both of them.  
  
~*~  
  
Ann doesn’t see the arrow coming.  
  
She sees _an_ arrow coming- Shiho’s, shining, emerald green. She watches it sail over her shoulder, turning as it passes, watching with dreadful clarity as it strikes her attacker just an instant too late.  
  
Ann staggers back, clutching feebly at the arrow transfixing her stomach. A moment later, her attacker- a cloaked Shadow on a white horse, with a bow in his hands- gets torn apart by an explosion of emerald wind and azure flame, capped off by the roar of a shotgun blast.  
  
The force of the shot steals the wind from Ann’s lungs, so she doesn’t even have enough breath left to scream.  
  
“ **_Ann!_ ** ” Shiho screams for her, so raw and anguished it makes Makoto’s eyes water.  
  
Callisto’s form destabilizes beneath Shiho’s legs. The great bear vanishes into wisps of blue fire, dropping Shiho, unsteady, to her feet. Shiho hits the ground with a pained gasp, a sharp ache lancing up her legs. She pushes herself up to her hands and knees, and _crawls_ over to Ann’s prone form, fueled by a wretched, desperate fear.  
  
But Makoto gets there first.  
  
Makoto rips the arrow out, swearing in frustration. The soft green glow of healing power gathers at Makoto’s fingertips, and she presses her palm to the wound, Ann whimpering in pain.  
  
Behind her, Ryuji is helping Shiho to her feet. Makoto lifts her head at them and growls.  
  
“I _told_ you not to get too far ahead!” Makoto barks.  
  
Shiho flinches. In an instant, Ryuji has his hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Hey!” Ryuji fires back, pulling Shiho behind him. “Back off!”  
  
“No…” Shiho whispers, eyes wide with fear. “...she’s right. I- I’m sorry, I should have-”  
  
“I’m okay.”  
  
Ann’s voice cuts through the fear. Makoto looks up, meets her eyes. Ann’s hand closes around hers in gratitude, fingers tangling in a way that makes Makoto’s heart skip a beat. Ann reaches up and takes Makoto’s shoulder with her other hand, pulling herself up so she’s sitting up on the pavement. She hisses in pain every inch of the way- but it sounds more annoyed, irritated more than anything.  
  
“I hope that won’t leave a mark,” Ann says, smiling wryly. “The guys at the modeling agency’ll kill me.”  
  
The glow fades, and Makoto pulls her hand away, revealing a tear in Ann’s catsuit- and the unbroken skin beneath. Ann’s smile grows more genuine.  
  
“Good as new,” Ann says warmly. “Thanks, Mako.”  
  
Makoto isn’t ready to hear such fondness in Ann’s voice. She just stares at her, speechless, as if _she_ was the one to get struck by an arrow.  
  
She almost doesn’t notice Shiho dropping down beside her.  
  
“Ann…” Shiho whispers, urgent, afraid. Ann shushes her, tracing a finger down her cheek.  
  
“Shh,” Ann coos. “It’s okay, Shiho. I’m okay. My suit took the worst of it.”  
  
“It’s a good thing that didn’t hit you in the chest,” Ryuji says, smiling in relief. “I’m tellin’ ya, that dumb boob window’s a heckin’ liability.”  
  
“Your _ascot’s_ a liability, Ryuji,” Ann teases.  
  
“Oh, yeah? How-”

Ann grabs Ryuji’s ascot, yanks him forward, and playfully slaps him across the face. Ryuji barks out an indignant laugh, while Shiho covers her mouth, smiling and vibrating with laughter.  
  
Ryuji carefully hoists Ann to her feet. Ann and Shiho press their foreheads together, laughing in relief, murmuring sweetness and light. And when Ryuji sticks his thumbs through his belt loops and obligingly turns his back, Ann pulls Shiho forward and draws her in for a kiss.  
  
Makoto exhales. She purses her lips, and looks away.  
  
~*~  
  
_“So this is what you do?” Shiho had asked, when Akira decided to call it a day and they all began the long trip back to the surface._ _  
__  
__“More or less,” Ryuji had replied. “Fight some bad guys, steal some hearts, make some money.”_ _  
__  
__“Hopefully make a difference,” Makoto had said._ _  
__  
__“It’s dangerous,” Shiho had said, somber. “I’m glad Ann has you two to look after her.”_ _  
__  
__Shiho had stopped, staring down at the floor._ _  
__  
__“...You…_ ** _will_** _look after her, won’t you? While I’m away?”_ _  
__  
__Ryuji and Makoto had shared a look- hesitant, pained, in a way neither of them could articulate._ _  
__  
__“...Of course,” Ryuji had said. “We promise.”_ _  
__  
__“Thank you,” Shiho had said, with a gentle smile. She’d moved ahead, leaving Makoto and Ryuji behind, the distance between them growing colder and colder without Ann there to bridge the gap._ _  
_  
~*~  
  
Spending time with Ann becomes… interesting, after that.  
  
When Shiho’s miles away from Tokyo, as opposed to staring her right in the face, it’s so much easier for Makoto to pretend. It’s so much easier to believe that she and Ann are just two friends, doing friend things. Just two friends at the crepe stand. Just two friends at the movies. Just two friends, sitting closer and closer to each other every time Akira calls the whole group together.  
  
(“Just tell her,” Akira says, once, when she’s the last one leaving a Thieves meeting in his attic room. “Better to clear the air, even if it’s awkward, than keep secrets.”  
  
There’s a staggering irony in Akira, of all people, telling her not to keep secrets. But all Makoto can say to him is “There’s nothing to tell.”)  
  
Makoto’s confusing feelings reach a boiling point when she, somehow, invites Ann to her house. Ann had thumbed her way through Makoto’s closet, scornful of how plain and practical everything was. Sae had picked out Makoto’s wardrobe, after all- had insisted on continuing to do so, even as a teenager, and Makoto had let her. Makoto knew she had no mind for fashion; she was content to simply wear whatever sparse, functional clothing met Sae’s standards.  
  
She tells this to Ann, in so many words. Ann stares at her with a horrified expression, before curling a hand around Makoto’s wrist and all but dragging her off to Harajuku, the capital of Tokyo teenage fashion.  
  
(“Are you okay?” Ann asks her on the train, when they reach for the same hand-hold and their fingers touch. Ann smiles- and Makoto is _convinced_ that Ann must know _exactly_ what she’s doing, that there’s no way Ann’s being this charming and this _attractive_ without it being on purpose.  
  
“Is something wrong? You can tell me,” Ann says, giving her a winning smile, and Makoto presses her lips into a line, hunting for something to say.)  
  
Ann is a ray of sunshine, blazing a trail down rows and rows of elegant fashion boutiques. Makoto lets her lead the way, taking in the sights. She’s out of her element- raw, exposed. But the sheer joy in Ann’s face keeps Makoto going, helps her power through the anxiety, the creeping fear and guilt. But in the rare moments Ann steps away, as soon as Ann’s warmth leaves her fingers, the terror comes back, like a tidal wave.  
  
What was she doing here? What the hell was she _doing_ here?  
  
(Yusuke notices, either because he’s an artist, or because it’s getting too much for Makoto to hide. He stops her in passing, as they’re leaving Leblanc. The question lingers behind his eyes.  
  
“Don’t you start,” Makoto growls, before he can even ask.)  
  
Rationalization is Makoto’s last hope. She steps out of herself, away from the chaotic fear and creeping guilt, and figures it out herself.  
  
She’s touch-starved. Understandable. Humans are social creatures. They crave warmth, and physical affection. Makoto’s parents aren’t around anymore, and while there’s plenty to admire about Sae Niijima, a hugger, she is not.  
  
Ann couldn’t be any more different than Sae if she tried. Sae is aloof, chilly, professional. Ann is a flame in her hands. She’s warm, free, expressive. Ann’s never afraid to give a teasing smile, or brush a hand against hers, or lean an elbow on her shoulder, or bump her head against hers, like a cat.  
  
It has to be projection, Makoto reasons. She’s projecting onto Ann her need for _purely platonic_ companionship, and the only reason each touch, each moment with her felt so electrifying, so overwhelming, was because Makoto had gone for so long without it. She was dying of thirst in a desert and Ann was her oasis, and she’d give herself water poisoning if she drank too fast.  
  
(Makoto’s phone buzzes in her pocket while Ann’s still in the fitting room. New text.  
  
_So did you tell her yet?_  
  
It takes everything in Makoto’s power not to just scream out “ _She has a girlfriend!_ ” She has to force herself to type it instead, texting Futaba back with shaking fingers.)  
  
“How do I look?” Ann asks, emerging from the fitting room with a spin and a flourish.  
  
“...Wow,” Makoto breathes, suddenly at a loss for adjectives. “Ann, you look… wow.”  
  
“Flattery will get you everywhere with _me_ , Mako,” Ann says, breezily, either not knowing, or knowing full well, how that sweet little pet name stops Makoto in her tracks.  
  
“You, um…” Makoto’s tongue feels like sandpaper. “You sure like to shop, don’t you?”  
  
“It’s nice to wear something _I_ want to wear,” Ann strikes a pose, one hand on her hip, flashing a peace sign with the other. She looks just as coquettish and bright in her sunset orange cocktail dress as she did a few weeks ago in her cherry red Thief catsuit.  
  
“It’s also a break from posing for _men_ ,” Ann adds, with a lethal smile. “This, right here, Mako? This is just for you.”  
  
Makoto jumps to her feet, unable to take it anymore. It’s unprofessional to leave, she knows. But it would be so much worse to stay.  
  
“I have to go,” Makoto says, heart racing, jaw tight, and as she storms out of the boutique, it’s Ann’s turn to be speechless.  
  
~*~  
  
**_Shiho_** _: I’m not sure what to say, Makoto, but_ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: it sounds like this friend of yours is in a lot of pain._ _  
_**_Makoto_** _: Well. I suppose they are called “crushes” for a reason._ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: I’m glad she can at least come to you about this, but_ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: I think she should just tell him._ _  
_**_Makoto_** _: You’re not the first person to say that. But I disagree._ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: Why not? The worst thing they can do is just say no._ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: But maybe, just maybe…_ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: They can come to an understanding._ _  
_**_Makoto_** _: I’m sorry, Shiho._ _  
_**_Makoto_** _: But I don’t think it’s that simple._ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: Maybe it is. You’re a good person, Makoto. I don’t want to see this tear you up inside._ _  
_**_Makoto_** _: Shiho… what are you saying?_ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: I’m saying I trust you, Makoto._ _  
_**_Shiho_** _: Tell her._ _  
_  
~*~  
  
_This has to be a dream. It has to be._ _  
__  
__Makoto showed up at Ann’s house, with an apologetic smile and a crumpled up speech (because of course Makoto would have planned this out down to every word, of course she would have) and then they had dinner, and they talked, and then she walked Makoto to the station, and then she came back home and went to bed, and now this is her dreaming._ _  
__  
__It’s not at all like it is with Shiho. Shiho is quiet, careful. She savors each moment, and takes her sweet time- too much time, even, as if she knows just how long Ann can wait, and makes her wait just a second longer. When Ann kisses her, Shiho follows each of Ann’s with a smaller, gentler kiss to the corner of Ann’s mouth, like an echo, or a promise:_ ** _I’m here. I’m safe. You’ll never lose me again._** ** _  
_**_  
__Makoto, meanwhile, knows exactly what she wants. There’s an urgency, a passion, a kinetic heat that fills her veins and leaves Ann gasping. This is more than loneliness. This is more than touch starvation. It’s years and years of resentment at having to be a model student. It’s years of seething anger and being told what she can and cannot feel._ _  
__  
__Makoto kisses her confession into Ann’s lips and down the curve of her throat. Makoto is desire, raw, and untamed, so unlike the sculpted perfection her father and sister set aside for her to fill._ _  
__  
__Makoto won’t slip quietly into that picture-perfect mold. She’ll overflow it, overwhelm it, just like she is now, as Ann bunches the sheets between her fingers and grabs a fistful of Makoto’s hair, and the world just_ ** _melts_** _into warmth and light._ _  
__  
__In that moment, Ann decides that reality can wait until morning._ _  
__  
__For now, let her dream._ _  
_  
~*~  
  
Ryuji knows.  
  
Everyone knows. It’s hard for them not to, since Ann’s about as subtle about liking girls as Ryuji is about being the Phantom Thieves. It was just that everybody else had enough tact to keep quiet.  
  
Among the male Phantom Thieves, there was only so much subtlety and tact to go around, and Akira had laid claim to most of it. That’s why Akira was their leader and mastermind, while Yusuke and Ryuji were mostly relegated to hitting things.  
  
Well, if there was anybody on the planet who didn’t know when to keep quiet, it was Ryuji Sakamoto.  
  
Makoto just wishes he’d picked a better time.  
  
Late October, and Makoto is trying to deal with the fact that her sister Sae has a Palace. She’d known, of course- she knew all the way back in August, right before Shiho’s kidnapping and the whole debacle with Medjed- but knowing something and seeing it for yourself are two very different things.  
  
He catches her, after a Thieves meeting lets out from Leblanc, on her way back to the train station.  
  
“Hey!” He calls out. “Wait a second!”  
  
Makoto stops. Her eyes flick down to her arm, where Ryuji’s holding her just a little too tightly.  
  
“What is it, Ryuji?”  
  
“I gotta ask you somethin’,” Ryuji begins, meeting her eyes. “...And, y’know, maybe it’s nothing, but I just thought I should ask, just in case-”  
  
“What is it, Ryuji?” Makoto echoes, her voice gaining an edge.  
  
“Is there…” Ryuji sighs. “...Is there something going on between you and Ann?”  
  
Makoto’s face is a mask of perfect calm. “...I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  
  
“Don’t lie to me,” Ryuji growls. He still hasn’t let go of Makoto’s arm.  
  
Makoto’s gaze flicks down to Ryuji’s hand on her arm. Her eyes flash in the light, vivid, dangerous.  
  
“Let go of me, Ryuji,” she says, her voice cold as ice.  
  
“Tell me the truth, Makoto,” Ryuji presses.  
  
“Let. Go. Of me.”  
  
“Makoto-”  
  
“ _Ryuji!_ ” Ann says sharply, from down the street. Ryuji’s so shocked to see her that he does just as he’s told. Makoto darts out of his grasp, Ann rushing to her side, Ryuji staring at them in disbelief.  
  
“So… so it’s true, then? You two...” Ryuji seethes. His face twists into an expression that just about rips Ann in half. “Ann, what the fuck!”  
  
“This isn’t what it looks like, Ryuji,” Ann says, in as calm a voice as she can manage.  
  
“Well, it doesn’t look great!” Ryuji yells, loud enough that some passers by turn their heads, and the others hurry past. “What is this?!”  
  
“It’s just sex!” Makoto blurts out. “We’re just- We’re just blowing off steam, it’s not-”  
  
“ _Oh_ ,” Ryuji snarls, “so you think just because Shiho’s a three-hour train ride away-”  
  
“Stop it!” Ann shrieks. “Both of you!”  
  
Ryuji and Makoto stop, staring at her. Ann takes Makoto’s hand and gives her a fierce squeeze.  
  
“It’s not,” Ann says, swallowing the lump in her throat. “It’s not just a fling. Makoto and I, we’re… together.”  
  
Makoto’s and Ryuji’s hearts both skip a beat for vastly different reasons.  
  
“Ann…” Makoto whispers.  
  
“Shh,” Ann coos.  
  
“Ann…” Ryuji heaves a sigh. “...Ann. A month ago, you told me Shiho was the best thing to ever happen to you. What the hell happened to that? What the hell are you gonna say to her?”  
  
“She knows,” Makoto says softly.  
  
“She- _what?_ ”  
  
“Shiho knows about us,” Ann says, squeezing Makoto’s hand as if it was the only thing keeping her from just running away. “And what I said about her… it’s still true. I still love Shiho, and she still loves me.”  
  
Ryuji stares at her. Makoto can practically see the rusty cogs turning in his head, the steam coming out of his ears. All the anger, all the fire in his system, burns away- leaving only a blank-eyed confusion.  
  
“This… doesn’t make sense. Ann, you’re cheating,” Ryuji says, with no malice or threat behind the words. “This is cheating.”  
  
“It’s not ‘cheating’,” Makoto says gently. “It’s about… openness. Honesty. Communication.”  
  
Ryuji heaves a sigh. He sticks his thumbs through his belt loops, scuffing the sidewalk with his shoes.  
  
“...It doesn’t seem right,” Ryuji mutters.  
  
“It isn’t always that simple,” Makoto says.  
  
“It’s about trust, Ryuji,” Ann pleads. “You trust me, don’t you?”  
  
Ann holds out her hand.  
  
Ryuji stands there, eyes flicking from Ann’s bright eyes to Makoto, sullen, unsure. Even now, with Ann holding Makoto with one hand and reaching for him with the other, Ann is bridging the gap between them. Or trying to, at least.  
  
“Ann…” Ryuji sighs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.” His eyes meet Makoto’s. “Listen, Makoto, I’m… sorry I grabbed you.”  
  
Ryuji walks away, lost in thought, giving muttered apologies in lieu of goodbyes.  
  
~*~  
  
The next few months don’t give them any time to think. It’s a rollercoaster of emotion, of deception and grief and fighting for their lives. There’s no time to slow down and think things through. There’s no time to sit and wonder just what their relationships are.  
  
Akira, especially, had a busy few months. Captured by the police, escaping from the police, getting captured by the police _again_ , going to juvenile hall, getting out again… he also died at some point, but he doesn’t like to talk about that.  
  
On the day Akira leaves Tokyo, Ryuji doesn’t say goodbye. He’s sentimental like that; he thinks he’ll jinx it if he does.  
  
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” Akira says, smiling like the tease that he is, and damn it, Ryuji can never tell if Akira’s joking or not, he can never tell if he’s being innocent or if he knows damn well what he’s doing.  
  
Ryuji’s had enough.  
  
So he kisses him.  
  
If Ryuji could frame the look of surprise on Akira’s face and hang it on his wall, he would. It’s nice to turn the tables on their resident mastermind.  
  
It’s also nice just to kiss him, just to be with him, and the realization that this might be it, that this might be the end, hits Ryuji like a tidal wave.  
  
So Ryuji doesn’t say goodbye. He grabs Akira and pulls him into a fierce hug.  
  
“I’ll call,” he says instead, tears pricking his eyes.  
  
“Yeah,” Akira mutters, into Ryuji’s throat.  
  
And they stand there, holding each other, unwilling to let go.  
  
Sojiro’s by the car, waiting, watching. He heaves a sigh, knowing well the feeling. He can’t bring himself to pull them apart. He doesn’t want to let go, either.  
  
~*~  
  
But he does, and they do, and life goes on.  
  
Akira enters his senior year at the high school in his hometown, with an utter lack of enthusiasm that he espouses to Ryuji when he catches him online every night.  
  
Makoto graduates from Shujin Academy and goes off to university. She’s pursuing a degree in criminal justice, to the surprise of no one.  
  
Shiho enters her senior year in Inaba, still a three-hour train ride away. She and Ann still try to see each other every Sunday, six hour transit time be damned. Ryuji catches her online, screen-shares anime with her that Ann doesn’t care for. Ann’s all about magical girls and transforming heroes, while Shiho likes to watch sports- and if it’s goofy, over-the-top, and full of inexplicable magic powers, hey, all the better.  
  
When Ryuji catches Shiho online, she also gives him advice on how to keep up a long distance relationship. If it were anybody else, he’d balk at the term- but she knows him, and he loves her for it.  
  
Ryuji and Ann enter their senior year at Shujin together. With Akira, Makoto, and Shiho all away from Tokyo, you’d think that now, they’d be closer than ever.  
  
And they are. To Ryuji’s chagrin.  
  
~*~  
  
Ryuji vaguely remembers (and it was only ever vaguely, since Ryuji was never the type to think about one thing too hard for too long, except for the things that really mattered) a time, six months ago, when he was getting on Makoto’s case for having a thing with somebody who was already in a relationship.  
  
Well, tonight, he’s eating those words. Because Ann’s at his place, sitting on his bed, and damn it, he has a hard enough time getting her off his mind when she _isn’t_ just three inches away.  
  
“Don’t you have anything _good_?” Ann’s asking, pawing through a box of Ryuji’s DVDs. She tosses a case disdainfully over her shoulder.  
  
“Hey, rude!” Ryuji snaps, snatching it out of the air. “Don’t you ever disrespect _Supercop_ again. That’s Jackie Chan. He’s the cop who can’t be stopped.”  
  
Ann snorts. “I bet Makoto would love it.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ryuji nods. “...How is she, anyway?”  
  
“Busy,” Ann sighs. “Who knew a double major in Criminal Justice and Sociology would take up so much _time_. But you know Mako…”  
  
“Miss Valedictorian,” Ryuji smiles.  
  
“She always has to be such an overachiever,” Ann pouts. “She never settles for less than the best.”  
  
“Is that why she’s dating you?”  
  
It takes a second for Ryuji to realize what he’s just said, and by then, his cheeks are hot and Ann’s looking at him with a smug, smug smile.  
  
Ryuji quickly changes the subject.  
  
“Listen,” Ryuji begins. “I’m uh, I’m sorry I freaked out at you two that one time.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Ann shrugs, lips still holding the trace of a smile. “Y’know, Shiho was actually super touched that you were so ready to kick my butt for cheating on her.”  
  
“I would’ve tried,” Ryuji mutters. “And then Makoto would’ve fuckin’ fed me my teeth, probably. And, hey, did you _have_ to tell Shiho about it? Because now she’ll think I’m some loudmouth who runs around jumping to conclusions.”  
  
“You are, though.”  
  
“Yeah, but you don’t need to _remind_ her.”  
  
Ann grins. She takes one last sip of iced tea, caps it, and tosses the empty bottle onto Ryuji’s pillow.  
  
“Don’t leave garbage on my bed,” Ryuji scolds.  
  
“But _you’re_ right there!” Ann teases.  
  
“Bite me,” Ryuji says, rolling his eyes.  
  
Ann takes the bottle and chucks it into the garbage can in the corner of Ryuji’s room. It hits the far rim and bounces out onto the floor. She sighs, and sheepishly goes to pick it up.  
  
Ryuji sets his box of DVDs on the floor and lays on his side in bed, idly leafing through the titles, only half paying attention to picking out a movie.  
  
Then he feels Ann’s weight and warmth beside him, and her arm around his waist, and Ryuji goes very, very still.  
  
“Ann,” Ryuji says flatly. “What are you doing.”  
  
“If you can’t pick anything good to watch, then I think I might just take a nap,” Ann says lightly.  
  
“No, I mean, what are you doing, like, right now.”  
  
“Spooning,” Ann says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.  
  
Ryuji rolls onto his back, looking up at Ann’s sky-blue eyes. He desperately tries to ignore how she still has an arm across his stomach, and how her chest is pressing into his arm.  
  
“Ann,” Ryuji says, matter-of-factly. “This is weird. You’re making it weird.”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be,” Ann protests.  
  
“You _crawled into bed_ with me!” Ryuji says, exasperated.  
  
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Ann rolls her eyes. “We used to do this all the time, back in middle school.”  
  
“That was different,” Ryuji mutters.  
  
“Why, because I didn’t have _these_ yet?” Ann says, grabbing her chest. “ _You_ didn’t have _these_ , either.”  
  
She reaches out to trace Ryuji’s abs through his shirt. He slaps her hand away, clambering to his feet, leaving Ann staring up at him from his bed.  
  
“What are you doing?” Ryuji demands, with an edge to his voice that he can’t fully explain. “ _What_ do you think you’re _doing_?”  
  
“Ryuji, I-”  
  
“ _What_ , Ann?” Ryuji snaps, and he doesn’t know why. Why is he so angry? Why is he so upset?  
  
“I just wanted to _be_ with you!” Ann blurts out, and all of Ryuji’s racing thoughts get swept away.  
  
“Shiho’s so far away,” Ann mutters, her eyes wet. “Akira too. Makoto’s up to her ears in schoolwork. Just a few months ago, we were all inseparable- but just look at us now! Everybody’s growing up, and growing apart, and I- I- I _hate_ it.”  
  
Whatever strange feeling had ignited Ryuji’s bones, it’s long gone. He sits back down on his bed, pulling Ann close. She bumps her head into his, like a cat, and curls up against his shoulder.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Ann whispers. “I should have asked, first. But I get… cold, y’know? Sometimes I just need-”  
  
“Alright, alright, I get it,” Ryuji says. “C’mere.”  
  
They lay back in bed together, Ann curled up beside him, Ryuji’s arm around her shoulders, his fingers trailing through her hair. Ryuji sighs, staring up at the ceiling.  
  
“I get that, though,” Ryuji whispers in the warm, intimate quiet. “It’s tough, seeing everybody go do their own thing. Scheduling’s a bitch. Making plans just keeps getting harder and harder.”  
  
“I just want this to last,” Ann murmurs into his chest. “I want us to last.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ryuji says, gazing up at the ceiling. “Ann?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“You’re my best friend,” Ryuji says. “I don’t want to lose you.”  
  
“You have me,” Ann says, whisper-quiet, and Ryuji can barely hear her over his heart pounding in his ears.  
  
~*~  
  
_“I’m still sorry about that whole deal with Makoto,” Ryuji says, some time later, still tangled in his best friend. “And about earlier today. I, uh, I know I gotta keep a lid on my temper.”_ _  
__  
__“It’s okay,” Ann coos._ _  
__  
__“I still don’t really get this whole ‘open relationship’ thing,” Ryuji shrugs. “But you, and Makoto, and Shiho… you three are making it work, yeah? Long as everybody’s, y’know. Happy.”_ _  
__  
__“Yeah,” Ann smiles. “What about you?”_ _  
__  
__“What_ ** _about_** _me?”_ _  
__  
__“When are you gonna break out the ‘L’ word?”_ _  
__  
__“I thought you were bi…?”_ _  
__  
__“Not ‘lesbian’, you numbskull,” Ann laughs. “And not_ ** _me_** _. Him!”_ _  
__  
__Ryuji isn’t laughing. The realization hits him like a slap to the face._ _  
__  
__This whole time, this whole time, all he could think about was Ann, and his confusing feelings for her. The same confusing feelings he’d given Makoto so much grief over- only worse. Because not only was Ann already in a relationship, he was, too._ _  
__  
__And he hasn’t been thinking about him. Not at all._ _  
__  
__Akira._ ** _Fuck_** _!_ _  
_  
~*~  
  
Ryuji decides that the only remedy for his confusing feelings is to channel all that energy into something more productive.  
  
He still hangs out with Ann, obviously. And he still sees her every day in class. Shiho envies that about him, painfully so. She admits as much, casually, in the middle of their hours-long marathon stream of _Inazuma Eleven_.  
  
“Don’t worry,” he says into his webcam, flashing Shiho a trademark grin. “Someday, you’ll get to spend your whole life with her, and you’ll get to wake up to her every day.”  
  
“That’s the dream,” Shiho says, over Inaba’s spotty internet. Her smile is a miracle, even in 240p.  
  
A dream. A goal. That’s what Ryuji needs. Something to focus on, something to pour all his restless energy into, that _isn’t_ his best friend, who’s already taken.  
  
When he tells Makoto what he’s decided on, she gives him a patient, if worried, smile.  
  
“It’s not…” Makoto sighs, her expression softening. “...I won’t say it’s _impossible_ , Ryuji. But with your grades, and less than a year before entrance exams…”  
  
“I’ll make it,” Ryuji flashes her a grin. “Just watch me.”  
  
(“Hey,” Akira says, his voice drifting over from Ryuji’s laptop.  
  
“What?” Ryuji asks. He looks up, and Akira’s leaning his chin in his hand, a wry smile on his face.  
  
“You’re cute when you’re studying,” Akira purrs.  
  
“Shuddup,” Ryuji grins. “I’m always cute.”  
  
For a moment, there’s just the scratching of Ryuji’s pencil against the page. Then, his laptop chirps, and he looks up.  
  
Akira’s sent a picture, of Mark Ruffalo looking over his shoulder, captioned ‘That’s my secret, captain. I’m always cute,’ and Ryuji almost snaps his pencil tip, he’s giggling that hard.)  
  
Ann thinks this must be the first time she’s ever heard the words “I can’t, I’m studying” come out of Ryuji’s mouth. She’s baffled- so much so that she gets up and goes all the way over to his house just to see if he’s lying.  
  
She lets herself in. She doesn’t use the spare key, even though she still knows where it is- she uses the one Ryuji gave her. It wasn’t a big deal- she gave him one to her house, too- but Akira and Shiho kept giggling about it for weeks after the fact.  
  
So _what_ if they exchanged house keys on Valentine’s Day? Pfft. Akira always had to make things weird.  
  
“Ryuji!” Ann calls as she tromps up the steps to his room. “I hope you have pants on!”  
  
He probably does, and if he doesn’t, Ann hopes he’s remembered to lock the door. After that one time- which they swore never to talk about, ever- Ann figures it’s always best to ask.  
  
Ann knocks on Ryuji’s door, and it swings open, unlocked. Ryuji’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, his legs tucked under a short desk. There’s a textbook propped up on a bag of beef jerky, and two open notebooks splayed out in front of him.  
  
Ryuji stares up at Ann in his doorway, pulling an earbud out of one ear. Ann stares right back.  
  
“...Hey,” Ann says, dumbly.  
  
“Hey,” Ryuji blinks. “...Weren’t you just at home?”  
  
“Yeah,” Ann says. She glances at Ryuji’s desk. “...What are you… _doing_ …?”  
  
“Studying…?”  
  
“No, with the notebooks.”  
  
“Oh,” Ryuji shrugs. “I’m rewriting the notes I took in class. Makoto says writing them again helps you remember it better, and then you have a clean copy to review later, if you were rushing during class and the first set comes out hard to read.”  
  
Ann still doesn’t know what to say. Ryuji rolls his eyes and pulls out his headphones, plugging his phone into a set of speakers so Ann can hear, too. It’s electronica, mellow enough, but with a steady, driving beat.  
  
“What are we listening to?” Ann asks. She flops onto her stomach on Ryuji’s bed, propping herself up on her elbows.  
  
“Shiho made me a playlist,” Ryuji says. “It’s all, like, instrumental stuff. Makoto says music can help you work, but if you’re supposed to be reading, anything with lyrics gets too distracting.”  
  
“What, do you take all your studying advice from Mako?” Ann teases.  
  
“What, do you think she made valedictorian by accident?” Ryuji rolls his eyes. He leans his head back against the edge of his bed, looking up at Ann, upside down.  
  
“So are you staying, or...?” Ryuji asks.  
  
“Why?” Ann obligingly leans forward and bonks her forehead against his. “You kicking me out?”  
  
“Nah,” Ryuji says. “But I thought you had somewhere you wanted to go.”  
  
“Only with you,” Ann smiles. “I just wanted to be with you.”  
  
Ann says it lightly, in a way that only someone who’s known Ryuji the better part of a decade can- but the words still stick in his head, more distracting than any song lyrics could ever be.  
  
~*~  
  
_Ann winds up dozing off on Ryuji’s bed, swimming in rhythmic synth and cradled in warm intimacy. Ryuji pokes her awake a few hours later. Ann rolls onto her back, her hair a wild blonde mane around her head, blinking up at Ryuji. He’s standing above her, hands on his hips, a teasing smile on his face._ _  
__  
__“Ann,” he scolds, shaking his head, “_ ** _what_** _did I tell you about leaving garbage on my bed?”_ _  
__  
__Ryuji bolts out the door an instant before Ann can thump him. She chases him down the stairs, both of them laughing like they’re kids again, until they see Mrs. Sakamoto in the kitchen, and they sheepishly apologize for running inside the house._ _  
_  
~*~  
  
The year after the rise and fall of the Phantom Thieves passes in a blur. The world keeps on turning, and Ann’s inner circle keeps spinning around her- Shiho, sweet and supportive, like the spring breeze at her back, always close despite being three hours away; Makoto, playing phone tag just so she can hear Ann’s voice, pouncing on any gap in her packed schedule to sweep back into Ann’s world like a hurricane; Ryuji, her rock, steady and stable; Akira, still her confidant after all this time, there for her in lieu of Ryuji- because while Ryuji’s physically the closest, mentally, he’s worlds away.  
  
Ryuji spends his senior year at Shujin dealing with Schrodinger’s Crush, deciding that if he just ignores his growing feelings for Ann, they’ll just go away, or at least simmer down and settle into the casual intimacy of best friend-ness.  
  
He read something, in a book, once. (Shocking, he knows.) He read that love isn’t about looking at each other, but looking together in the same direction. Well, Ryuji doesn’t know where Ann’s looking- he tries not to pay any more attention to those gorgeous sky-blue eyes than he has to- but _he’s_ got his sights set, on graduation, entrance exams, and his steadily-climbing GPA.  
  
(Ms. Kawakami sees him in the Shujin library, the week before finals. He’s kind of hard to miss, being one of only two blondes on campus. She thinks she’ll say hello, just to be polite, but he’s surprisingly thrilled to see her- she asks about her old students, Kurusu, Takamaki, and once he gets started he just can’t _stop_ , talking about them with stars in his eyes and such an overwhelming fondness and vitality that she wonders how she could ever have thought he was a problem child.  
  
She sees him again the next day. He’s a little too loud- old habits, she supposes- but when she overhears him asking for help with Japanese, always his toughest subject, she marches right up to him and volunteers.)  
  
Ryuji tackles finals week like he’s shoulder-checking a Shadow, with an intensity and drive that inexplicably makes Ann’s heart flutter in her chest. Finals week comes and goes, and when the results are posted, Ann is floored- in track, in the Metaverse, and now even in their exam scores, Ryuji Sakamoto is leading the charge.  
  
Graduation, Christmas, and New Year’s all go by in the same hectic week. The National Center Test for University Admissions, or ‘Center’, is only two weeks away.  
  
The Center is a standardized test held in the middle of January that’s a huge marker for college admission. Some places, your Center score is the only thing they use to decide whether you get in or not. Most places, including the university Ryuji’s gunning for, use the Center and a second exam to decide on admission- but the second exam is harder, more specialized, and if you don’t pass the Center then you’ll never get in.  
  
Despite the shadow of the Center looming over them, the mood is bright and hopeful. Shiho’s going to be coming back to Tokyo to take the Center test with Ryuji and Ann. If she gets accepted, she’ll be dorming at university here- she’ll no longer be hours away. That alone would have been exciting news, but then Akira drops the bombshell on them- in April, on the second anniversary of his first coming to Tokyo, Akira’s coming back, this time for good.  
  
The announcement practically sets the group chat on fire. Everyone’s excited, everyone’s making plans, everyone’s wondering how the hell all eight of them are gonna be free at the same time, but damn it, they’ll make it work, because there’s no way in hell they’re gonna miss Akira’s first day back.  
  
Hope blazes in the air, fighting back the winter chill.  
  
For once, it all makes sense. For once, everything’s going right.  
  
~*~  
  
Ann, Shiho, and Ryuji all get their letters on the same day.  
  
Ann squeals with delight as she announces her acceptance to a program for the performing arts. Shiho beams as she reads aloud her acceptance to Tokyo University’s nursing program. Ryuji laughs and claps a hand on her back moments before Ann pounces on her and wraps her in a hug.  
  
Then Ryuji opens his own letter, and he goes very, very still.  
  
He takes a deep breath. He lets it out slow.  
  
He crumples his rejection into his fist.  
  
He storms up the stairs, making a beeline for his room, his vision tunneling and gray from the sheer _rage_ he’s trying to contain.  
  
He feels a hand on his shoulder and he _snaps_ \- he can’t think, he can’t stop himself, he just roars in frustration and whirls around-  
  
Ann catches his fist in her hand.  
  
Ryuji sucks in a breath, and remembers who he is- where he is. He’s halfway up the steps, Shiho two steps behind him, Ann having darted in front of her at the last moment. Even now, with one hand protectively on Shiho’s shoulder and the other clamped around Ryuji’s fist, even in this wretched moment, Ann is bridging the gap between them.  
  
“Ryuji…?” Shiho asks, gently, but when he snaps his gaze towards her, she flinches, eyes wide with fear.  
  
This is a nightmare. This is a nightmare he’s had before, too many times to count.  
  
“ _I don’t care how much history we have,” Ann seethes through gritted teeth. “If you touch her,_ ** _ever_** _, we’re_ ** _through_** _.”_ _  
__  
_ He looks up at Ann, expecting the fury, expecting the hatred.  
  
Looking in those sky-blue eyes, he almost wants to see the anger. But there’s only… pity. And that hurts, almost as much as the fear in Shiho’s eyes, her body language, that her practiced, gentle smiles can’t conceal.  
  
Ryuji wrenches his hand out of Ann’s grip and storms upstairs. Ryuji hears Ann following him, stubborn as ever. He gets to his room, and slams the door in her face.  
  
“I think you girls should go,” Mrs. Sakamoto says, softly, at the foot of the steps.  
  
Ann stares at Ryuji’s bedroom door, not sure what to feel. Shiho appears behind her, taking her hand with a reassuring squeeze. Silently, they lace their fingers together.  
  
Ann reaches out, as if to knock, but sighs, and stops herself.  
  
“Ryuji…” Ann whispers, like a prayer, laying her hand on the door like a benediction from a saint.  
  
~*~  
  
_Ryuji sits alone in his bedroom, a spread of job applications fanned out on his desk. Beside him, his phone buzzes along with the thoughts in his ears._ _  
__  
__Stupid. This was a stupid dream, and he was stupid for having it. He’s never gonna get an athletic scholarship after what Kamoshitty did to his leg. He’s not gonna get an academic one either, now. Not that it matters. Not that his mom has enough money to send him to college. Not that he’ll ever be able to get a decent job and get him and his mom out of his stupid house that they can’t afford, not that his mom’ll be able to retire, because she’s still gotta take care of her stupid fucking son, and she’ll still have to go to stupid work even when she’s old and gray…_ _  
__  
__This isn’t him going through shit because of other, shittier, people. This is just him, not being good enough. This is his own damn fault._ _  
__  
__Ryuji’s phone buzzes again. It’s been buzzing, on and off, for the past three hours. Makoto, practical, sending him links and study guides, reassuring him that he can retake the Center next year. Shiho, sweet, sending him memes, recipes, food photos, nudging him to get online so they can watch something together. And then there was Ann, being Ann, just trying to get him to pick up his damn phone._ _  
__  
__Ryuji grits his teeth, feeling his temper coiling in his gut. He picks up his phone. It buzzes again, in his hand, and the only thing stopping him from hurling the fucking thing across the room is the name that flashes across the screen._ _  
__  
__Ryuji lays back in bed, running his fingers through his hair._ _  
__  
__“Hey, Akira,” he sighs. “...No. No, I didn’t get in.”_  
  
~*~  
  
With nothing to work for, all Ryuji can do is wait. Wait for a second shot at the Center next year; wait for Akira to get back to Tokyo in April; wait for direction, and for things to make sense again.  
  
He passes by Futaba in the corner booth at Leblanc. He holds his hand above her head, palm down, and she leans into the touch. He knows by now that you can’t just go for it- Futaba doesn’t really do surprises, or touching, and you need to tell her you’re coming, give her a second to prepare.  
  
“Hey,” Futaba says.  
  
“Hey,” Ryuji says, sullen, smoothing her hair against her scalp.  
  
“Want me to hack into the Center database and tweak your scores?” Futaba offers.  
  
“Nah,” Ryuji smiles, despite everything. “If I gotta cheat my way in, how am I gonna make it through the school year?”  
  
“Keep cheating,” Futaba says, matter-of-fact, and Ryuji playfully ruffles her hair.  
  
“I’m sorry about what happened, kid,” Sojiro says, behind the bar. “These things… they happen in their own time. Don’t let anybody tell you you’ve gotta have it all figured out. Some people take forever before finding out where they’re meant to be- that’s what I did.”  
  
“Really?” Ryuji asks.  
  
“Sure,” Sojiro grins. “You think I was always serving up coffee?”  
  
Ryuji shrugs. “...I dunno. I guess I just… didn’t want to end up like my dad.”  
  
“You’re twice the man your father was, and I can prove it,” Sojiro says.  
  
“Yeah? How?”  
  
“You’re still here,” Sojiro smiles. “And I’m glad for it. It’s too quiet without Akira around.”  
  
“Pfft, yeah, because Akira was a real chatterbox,” Ryuji rolls his eyes.  
  
When it’s time to close up shop, Ryuji passes by Akira’s apron, hanging on a hook in the kitchen. He steps outside, and flips the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed’. He’s still thinking about what Sojiro said- about where he’s meant to be. Ryuji doesn’t know if this is it, not exactly. But it’s close. Closer than a lot of places.  
  
Ryuji’s phone buzzes in his pocket. Ann.  
  
“Hey,” Ryuji says, finding himself smiling.  
  
“Hey,” Ann chirps. “How was your first day?”  
  
~*~  
  
It’s the day Shiho’s coming back to Tokyo, and Ann’s celebrating her return with a trip to the amusement park. It should be a great day, but something feels off. Maybe it’s because Ann’s photo shoot ran overtime, and she wasn’t able to pick up Shiho at the station. Maybe it’s because she asked Ryuji to pick her up instead.  
  
Maybe it’s because Ryuji’s still haunted by him almost hitting her in a fit of anger, and the flash of fear in Shiho’s eyes.  
  
They drop off Shiho’s things at Ann’s house, Ryuji using the key she gave him (on Valentine’s Day, Shiho was quick to remind him, to which he could only roll his eyes). And then, when Ann’s photo shoot winds up taking even longer than expected, Ann tells them to go on ahead to the amusement park, and that she’ll meet them once she’s done.  
  
So they sit together, on a park bench, and wait.  
  
It’s… awkward, without Ann there to bridge the gap. They talk online, all the time, but it’s different in person. There’s a tension, a restlessness, that Ryuji can’t quite explain.  
  
There’s also the fact that, in less than a month, Shiho would be starting the road to a nursing degree, while Ryuji will be in Leblanc pouring coffee. He’ll be learning from the best, admittedly. But still.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Shiho says, which is never a good way to start a conversation.  
  
“No, I’m sorry,” Ryuji says. “Ma always tells me I gotta get a lid on my temper.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Shiho says. She reaches out, gently touches Ryuji’s face, gazing into his eyes.  
  
“Um.” Ryuji blinks. Because in that moment, it’s like Shiho’s looking right through him.  
  
Shiho brushes her knuckles against Ryuji’s cheek, her touch feather-light, studying Ryuji’s features all the while. When she pulls away, she nods to herself, as if she’s figured it all out.  
  
“You’ll never be him.”  
  
Ryuji goes stiff. He doesn’t know who she means- Kamoshida, or his dad- but either way, his heart catches in his throat.  
  
“I- I just want to be strong,” Ryuji says, the words spilling out from some hidden place- a halfway place. “I felt strong, in the Metaverse, cracking heads, fighting Shadows, when I had my Persona with me. But now that we’re out here, in the real world, I- I don’t know what that means.”  
  
“You _are_ strong,” Shiho smiles. “You kept your promise.”  
  
Ryuji blinks. “...My-”  
  
_You **will** look after her, won’t you? While I’m away?_  
  
Ryuji lets out a shuddering breath. “...Yeah.”  
  
And neither of them knows what to say after that. So they just go back to waiting.  
  
Shiho leans into Ryuji’s shoulder, and he goes stiff- but he doesn’t shrug her off. Shiho smiles and nuzzles his arm, and he laughs, and the tension between them slowly drains away.  
  
“You’re my friend, Ryuji,” Shiho giggles. “Treat me like your _friend_. You don’t have to treat me like I’m made of glass.”  
  
“Alright, alright,” Ryuji grins. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and before he can fish it out, he hears Ann, yelling and waving across the concourse.  
  
Ryuji and Shiho get to their feet, Shiho jumping up and waving back. Ryuji offers his hand, and Shiho lets him pull her into a hug. When they part, Ryuji nods towards Ann’s approaching form.  
  
“Go on,” Ryuji smiles. “She’s all yours.”  
  
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Shiho teases. She holds out her hand. “Come on.”  
  
Ryuji hesitates just for a moment, before he grins and takes her hand. Shiho laughs in delight and pulls him through the gates and into the park. Their hands part just long enough for Ann to curl her fingers with Shiho’s and loop an arm around Ryuji’s neck, bridging the gap between them like she always has.  
  
~*~  
  
In a bold move, Shiho asks Ann if she can stay with her instead of moving into her dorm.  
  
She calmly explains the practical benefits- she’ll save the cost of room and board, she’ll save on having to go dorm shopping, but most importantly, she’ll save the travel time from school and _home_ \- and Ann, beet-red from the implications of _living with Shiho_ , throws her arms around her and all but squeals ‘yes’.  
  
And just like that, Shiho’s living the dream. She’s back in Tokyo, she’s back with Ann, and she’s so _close_. Seeing Ann is no longer a three-hour train ride, and waiting on Sunday with bated breath. It’s as simple as going in the next room, or hearing Ann come downstairs, or even, on the best days, simply waking up.  
  
One morning, while Shiho’s sprawled out on the couch after a regrettably lengthy evening class, she hears the familiar sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. She sits up and stretches, ready to greet her girlfriend and ask her what she’d like for breakfast-  
  
-when she sees Makoto freeze at the bottom of the steps, a deer caught in headlights.  
  
Makoto is, frankly, stunning- the very picture of the young professional. What’s not professional is the mortified look in her eyes.  
  
“S-Shiho!” Makoto stammers. “I- I’m so sorry, I realize this is awkward-”  
  
And damn it, Shiho goes ahead and _laughs_.  
  
Makoto’s cheeks are burning. She crosses her arms, as if doing so can help her hold on to her dignity while Shiho’s doubled over on the couch.  
  
“What?” Makoto demands, blushing all the while. “What’s so funny?”  
  
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Shiho giggles, clapping her hands over her mouth. “It’s- It’s just- Mako, you’re so _cute_ when you’re embarrassed!”  
  
Makoto slaps a palm against her forehead.  
  
“...I should go,” Makoto groans, making for the door.  
  
“Wait!”  
  
Makoto pauses at the door, Shiho’s hand clasped around hers.  
  
“I was about to make breakfast,” Shiho says. “Won’t you stay?”  
  
Makoto sighs. “...I… I shouldn’t.”  
  
“You don’t have to leave, just because I’m here,” Shiho says gently. “I want to see you, too. I want you to stay.”  
  
“Shiho…” Makoto breathes. She fidgets, looking at the floor. “I- I want to see you, too. It’s just, um. I have to get to class.”  
  
“Oh!” Shiho blinks, and now it’s her turn to blush. “S-Sorry.”  
  
“No, it’s- it’s okay,” Makoto says, sheepish. “Listen, I’ll, um… I’ll see you.”  
  
“I’ll see you,” Shiho echoes, with a warm smile.  
  
Makoto squeezes Shiho’s hand, and then she’s out the door, with a hint of red lingering on her cheeks and a strange warmth in her chest.  
  
~*~  
  
Today’s the day.  
  
Akira’s back in Tokyo, two years to the day after when he first arrived. His inner circle had spent the days leading up to his arrival fighting over who would get to see him first. In the end, they decided it was only fair that they go in the order he met them- which meant Ryuji got to see him first, and Ann, second.  
  
While Shiho’s wrapped in a blanket on the couch, curled up with a good book, looking not unlike Akira herself in her reading glasses and with her hair down, Ann’s pacing around the living room, vibrating with excitement. Makoto sits at the dining table, doing homework, watching Ann pace and shaking her head. Her eyes meet Shiho’s across the way, and they exchange knowing smiles.  
  
There comes a knock. Ann practically launches herself at the door.  
  
“Akira?!” Ann cries, throwing the door open. “Oh, it’s just _you._ ”  
  
“ _Thanks_ , Ann,” Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Hey guys!”  
  
“Hello!” Makoto and Shiho chorus, giggling when they say it together.  
  
“Where is he?” Ann says, eager, leaning up to look over Ryuji’s shoulder.  
  
“Geez, keep it in your pants, would you?” Ryuji teases. He jerks his head behind him. “He’s in the car.”  
  
“Sojiro trusted him with his _car_?” Makoto asks, raising an eyebrow.  
  
“He must have _really_ missed him,” Shiho giggles.  
  
“I can’t believe he’s back!” Ann squeals. “The boys are back in town!”  
  
“Hell yeah!” Ryuji and Ann high five. Ryuji glances at Shiho. “Heck, sorry.”  
  
“Go!” Shiho smiles and shoos them out the door. “He’s waiting!”  
  
“Alright, I’ll be back,” Ann grins, turning to her girlfriends. “I love you!”  
  
“I love you, too,” Shiho and Makoto chorus, giggling again.  
  
“That’s gay,” Ryuji teases.  
  
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Makoto smirks.  
  
“Um, excuse me, I’m bi…?”  
  
“ _Bye_ , Ryuji,” Makoto smiles. She watches them head down to the curb, and gives Akira a wave, before stepping back inside and shutting the door behind her.  
  
Makoto glances between her schoolwork, laid out on the dining table, and Shiho, curled up on the couch. She picks Shiho, dropping down onto the couch with a content sigh, Shiho offering her her blanket without a word.  
  
“It’s always so cold in here,” Makoto mutters, gratefully curling up beneath Shiho’s blanket.  
  
“Ann’s always warm,” Shiho says gently. “She’s the opposite of Yusuke, wearing long sleeves everywhere he goes.”  
  
“That’s poor diet and poor circulation for you,” Makoto says, matter-of-factly. Shiho only shrugs, and smiles, and returns to her book.  
  
A warm quiet settles between them, despite the chill in the house. Makoto picks out a book from the box beside the couch for just such an occasion, and she and Shiho read together, in a comfortable silence.  
  
There’s a space between them on the couch, where Ann would normally be. But now, Shiho and Makoto are close enough for their arms to bridge the gap.  
  
Their pinkies touch between page turns. About three or four pages later, they’re stealing glances over their books. By page six or seven, they’re holding hands.  
  
Makoto smiles, feeling a tingle in her fingers and a fluttering in her chest.  
  
You never forget your first time.  
  
~*~  
  
_Three love stories, in as many years. Three souls on the long road, leading the charge._ _  
__  
__Two, sidelined due to injury. A third, with a late start._ _  
__  
__It’s only when Makoto suggests that they all make a chart that they finally realize it isn’t a race._ _  
__  
__Ann Takamaki isn’t some prize to be won, or some finish line to cross._ _  
__  
__She’s breakfast at the crepe stand. She’s strutting through Harajuku, arms laden with bags. She’s having a key to your house, and staying with you while you study. She’s a first kiss- on a Ferris wheel, in a booth at Leblanc, or cuddled up to you in bed._ _  
__  
__She’s the earth beneath your feet, the wind at your back, and the sunlight in your hair._ _  
__  
__She’s little fingers, linked in a promise, and she’s a web of color on a whiteboard, where the lines overlap._ _  
_  
~*~


End file.
